The Master of Fear
by and.why.the.hell.not
Summary: Sherlock discovers that a serial killer is wandering through London, but nobody believes him until the killer makes a mistake. Sherlock wants to prove it but something goes terribly wrong leaving him worrying about John s life. John finds himself in a really bad situation and what follows is a whole lot of trust and friendship. BAMF!John/ Sherlock as he lives and breathes.


The Master of Fear

John said in his chair in Baker Street when Sherlock came running trough the door with a triumphant grin on his face.

"I knew it John, I knew it!" he said throwing today´s newspaper in Johns direction who was lucky to have good reflexes. If he hadn´t he would have ended up getting hit in the face.

"Great...and what exactly did you know?" he asked unfolding the newspaper and seeing the headline of the first page.

 **Woman buried alive before death – Police at a loss**

"The unusual murders of the past view weeks, John. Don´t you see the pattern now."

Over the last month there had been three murders and none of them had been solved by the police because they had not found any person with a motive. Sherlock had stated that they must be linked in some way because - despite the fact that it was usual that the police was incapable to solve a crime - there were far too many unsolved ones in a short period of time.

"Ok, it is really unusual that there is another one but I don´t see where there should be a pattern somehow. These murders are very different and cannot be related."

"Wrong, John. You see but you don´t observe." John looked Sherlock in the eyes and had no clue what he was talking about.

"Oh for God´s sake...There have been four murders now. Humphrey Dalton, 42 years old, husband and father, business man working at a bank, found in an old abandoned basement, died on raw wounds that covered his whole body. We were there, John. You said that he was still alive when the rats ate him peace by peace." John made a disgusted face while remembering the day when they entered the basement. The rats had done an extensive damage on the man´s body.

"The second one: Max Asbjorg, 17 years old, student with good grades, drowned in a lake even though it was well known that he could´t swim, assumed as suicide although there was no motive for him to do it and he hadn´t left a note." John had to admit that it was really unlikely that this kid committed suicide. He had good grades and was popular at his school. He also had the most beautiful girl on the school as date for prom.

"Only six days after that there was another body found. Emilia Gorban, 64 years old, single, office assistant, found in her own house in a 2 by 2 meter metal box that was swaged from the outside. You said it took at least two hours before she suffocated because of the lack of oxygen. The police did not find even one suspect but did not listen to me when I told them that it must be a serial killer." John still remembered the shattered hands of the woman. She had hit against the metal as long as she had the power to do so. He also remembered the discussion between Lestrade and Sherlock which was not really amusing.

"And now they found the fourth victim of this psychopath. Louise Hawkins, 29, engaged, ongoing apprenticeship as a cook in a small restaurant, found dead this night in a coffin in the ground of her own front yard. In the newspaper it also says that she was buried alive. If my theory is right – and it is – then you would find out that they did not get it wrong when you examined the body."

"So what is the pattern then? What is it that links all these cases?" John asked but Sherlock was rambling through the room, gripping his gears and he didn´t know if he even listened to him.

"Not know, we have to go to the crime scene. Since the police happened to forget to contact us as soon as they found the body we have to go there by ourselves. Probably Anderson has destroyed the evidence by now if there even was something to be found. The killer is very thorough and never made a mistake before. Hurry up, we have to go!" Sherlock was out of the door before John was able to get his jacket.

"Damn it, Sherlock wait!"

10 minutes later both friends arrived a the crime scene. Lestrade and – unfortunately – Anderson were still there and came towards them when they noticed Sherlock and John.

"Don´t say it" Lestrade warned Sherlock but was interrupted by Sherlock.

"It´s a serial killer! Obviously. It must be. There is no other explanation." Lestrade rolled his eyes and Sherlock ignored him running past both of the men.

"You can´t be serious. There is no way that these murders are related. They are far too differential!" Anderson screamed after him but Sherlock didn´t hear him while he was searching the area which was unfortunately searched by the police before. John went to him and watched when Sherlock laid down on the grass and looked over it. Then he jumped triumphant in the air and approached the coffin which was empty by now.

"The body is already in the transporter Sherlock. If you want to see her, you have to come to the morgue." Lestrade said pointing his index finger to the silver SUV which was now driven away by Anderson.

"I think there will be no need for that. The killer is too thorough to leave evidence on the body. But he did one big mistake this time." Sherlock said leaning over the empty coffin and taking out his magnifier. Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"Now we are back at it again. Why do you think that it is a serial killer? Is it just the fact that there are a number of unsolved crimes or do you have any evidence for what you are claiming?" he said joining John who was standing next to Sherlock. Sherlock finished is examination and grinned.

"As I told you before he is very good at what he is doing. I see that you don´t have a clue what this man could possibly be doing and therefore I will explain it further until someone here with a brain understands what I am talking about." John and Lestrade exchanged a look.

"What do all the cases have in common?" Sherlock simply asked.

"There _is_ nothing they have in common. The victims variate in gender, age, nationality and physical appearance. They are all in different phases of their life...God their was even a child. The victims don´t have anything in common and they died in various ways."

"You see but you don´t observe, as I told John before. What do you think John? What do the murders have in common?" Sherlock asked turning his focus to John.

"Well...I agree with everything Lestrade just said but I have to admit that something is odd. Looking at the wounds which they got by trying to escape, all of these people must have been afraid to death..." John started to regret his choice of words when Sherlock yelled:

"EXACTLY!" Sherlock looked at John and Lestrade expecting them to know what he was talking about.

"Oh, come on...All these murders were made to make the victims fear. That is what the murder wants. He wants to see the fear in his victims eyes and to hear the horror in their voices when they know that they will die. That is all this is about. Of course you have not been able to find suspects because you searched for someone with a motive to kill the specific victim, but a serial killer takes someone he can get without problems of being seen or heard. Somewhere he takes them, and then he let´s them fear. He experiments with different fears though." Sherlock said and now John and Lestrade were able to follow him.

"So this is some kind of cruel experiment to find out how people react to different fears then?" John asked and got the answer he didn´t want to hear.

"Apparently yes."

"Then we will not be able to catch him until he makes a mistake and as you said he must be very thorough. We never found any evidence at a crime scene. And because we never did find evidence that proves that these are serial murders, we will not be able to investigate in this direction either" Lestrade stated disgusted of the thought of more crime scenes like this.

"Yeah...but Sherlock you said something before...you said that he made a mistake already" John was confused now because he didn´t see anything that could give a hint who the killer was.

"Well, at least one of you is listening to what I say. The killer never left any evidence and always got away with the murders but this time he made a terrible mistake. As I said before he wants to experience his victim´s fear. He wants to know every single detail of their death. He was sitting next to them or was hidden in the darkness. In the basement he was able to see Humphrey Dalton, he probably had a boat to watch the student drown and he could hear Mrs. Gorban´s screams through the metal of the box he put her in. But this time he buried Ms. Hawkins in a coffin under the ground. There was no way for him to hear or see her under there or is it?" Sherlock knelt down next to the coffin once again and knocked against the wood of the lid at several points.

"John, your knife please" he demanded and with an eye roll John took his knife out of his pocket and gave it to Sherlock, earning a startled look by Lestrade. Sherlock knocked against the wood once again, pointed the index finger of his left hand at one point and drilled a hole into it with the knife in his right one. When the hole was big enough he laid the knife next to him and grabbed inside the intervening space. A second later he pulled out something that looked like an old mobile phone but with some wires attached to it.

"Is that what I think it is?" Lestrade asked.

"You think that it is a bugging device and you are indeed right. At least partially. It is a untraceable phone with an attached amplifier. If you give it to the tech-team they will find out that the last called number is the only number it was ever used for and that said number belongs to another untraceable phone which was bought in some electronic shop without cameras and was paid with cash."

"So he listened to her dying on the phone..." John said.

"Yes, and if there hadn´t been so many policeman running around and destroying evidence then it wouldn´t have been so difficult to find the four deepenings in the grass over there which imply that the killer brought a camping chair and said down next to the grave to be near his victim when it died." Sherlock answered.

"Ok, I admit that everything that you just said sounds right to me but none of it really helps us to catch the killer. So what do we do now?" Lestrade asked but Sherlock ran past him once again announcing

"Now I am going to create myself a Facebook account." John had to leave the stunned detective behind with a short

"´til later" to get in the cap with Sherlock before it left the scene.

They did not speak a word on their way home and when they arrived at Baker Street Sherlock grabbed John´s laptop and sat down on the couch.

"You mend what you said to Lestrade before. You really are creating an account on Facebook, aren´t you?" John asked a little bit pissed because Sherlock could´ve at least asked for the laptop before using it.

"Today, almost everybody is on Facebook. It is the easiest way to get in contact with people you never met before and who you have no intention to ever meet." Sherlock had already given in a fake name and Anderson´s email address and was now typing some names on the keyboard.

"And who do you want to get in contact with?" John asked and stood up going over to Sherlock when he got not answer.

"Martha Dalton, Sam Gorban, Matthew Hawkings and Claude Asbjorg...these are family members of the victims..." John wanted to ask what Sherock did exactly but he was sure that he wouldn´t even hear him if he tried because his flatmate was focussed on the laptop. _Well then it has to wait until he found what he is looking for_ John said to himself went to the kitchen and made some tee.

After three cups of tea John was nearly asleep on his chair when Sherlock suddenly laughed

"Oh...he is clever, really clever but now I have him, now I know what he is doing." he said jumping in the air and getting his coat.

"What did you find out and where the hell are you going?" John asked before Sherlock could disappear again.

"It was so obvious John...the boy, the drowned boy...he couldn´t swim. He was scared of water and had nightmares about drowning. The killer must have known that...and he knew about the others, too."

"The others?" John asked still confused.

"Yes the others, John...all of them...every victim was afraid of exactly that what caused their deaths. Dalton was afraid of rats, Emilia Gorban was claustrophobic and Ms. Hawkins was afraid of being..."

"..buried alive" John finished Sherlock´s sentence.

"Quite right. And there is only one person that knew about all of these fears" Sherlock said triumphant and went to get his scarf.

"Who?..and where are you planning to go?" John said when he stood up to get his jacket.

"I am going to see a psychiatrist." Sherlock stated leaving through the door followed by John. _I think that it is far too late for you to be helped_ he thought when he followed Sherlock outside.

When they arrived at a big spooky building it was dark outside. On the ride there Sherlock had explained that he had chatted with relatives and friends of the victims and had found out about their phobias.

"There must have been a person that knew about all this and there is only one person everybody of them would have told their biggest fears to. Their psychiatrist. He had changed his name once and his location too but it was the same man who the victims had opened up to. A small thin man with dark hair metal rimmed glasses and an angular face." Sherlock had said His last location was the building Sherlock and John were now in front of.

"Why didn´t you call Lestrade when you think that he is in there?" John asked quietly. He felt his gun slamming against his hip with every step he made.

"He changed places before and it is possible that he is hiding for a short time after the murders. I wanted to be sure before I call Lestrade" Sherlock said while he picked the lock. It was pitch black inside.

"You didn´t want to look stupid when the police arrives and the house is empty, didn´t you?" John asked sarcastically and pulled out his gun and his flash light. Sherlock ignored him and entered the floor of the house. The first room they entered was an old fashioned kitchen which had been barely used over a long time but the second room looked like an office. A clean desk was standing at the window and a couch was standing in front of it for the sessions. Sherlock sat down at the desk and opened the drawers without looking at the insides. The last drawer was locked. He picked the lock and found what he was looking for. A big brown leather-bound book. He opened it and browsed through the detailed records of the sick experiments of the psychiatrist.

"Oh man...there were even more" John looked Sherlock over the shoulder and found that the whole book was filled with notes about uncountable murders. He must have worked somewhere else before he came to London.

Suddenly a door grated in the floor outside. John jerked and lifted his gun to the door. All at once the room filled with white smoke. It burned in John´s throat when he breathed and he recognized too late what was in the smoke. His vision went black and he felt his limp body hitting the floor before he loosed consciousness. Sherlock didn´t react any faster then John and found himself lying next to his unconscious friend seeing a shadow appear in the door frame before he too went unconscious.

When Sherlock woke up he was alone in a darkened room. His head hurt and his vision was still a little bit blurry. He was lying on the cold stony ground and found that he had no severe injuries but probably a concussion from when his head hit the floor.

"John! John!" he screamed in hope that his friend was in a similar room next doors but he got no answer. He stood up but his legs were still a little bit unsteady. Suddenly the room was flooded by light and Sherlock was blinded for a second. When his eyes got used to the bright light he saw that there was a big screen at the wall opposite to him. A man with black hear and metal rimmed glasses grinned in his direction.

"Welcome back Mr. Holmes. I was wondering when you would turn up here" he said smiling. Sherlock looked up and found the camera at the ceiling which was sending a life stream to the psychopath.

"The room in which you are right now was intended for another guest. The fear of darkness is very interesting and the patient would not have died from it so I would have had plenty of time to watch him before he would have starved to death. But you are gladly accepted as replacement. It is rather interesting to find out what the great Sherlock Holmes is afraid of. Of course it is nothing as dumb and ordinary as the fear of darkness or the fear of drowning. At first I thought your biggest fear was to be unable to solve a puzzle but now I know exactly what you are afraid of Mr. Holmes. I have watched you, I even read the blog of your little friend, rather amusing really." the man said without letting the grin leave his face.

"Where is he? What did you do to him?" Sherlock asked furiously.

"Well, see for yourself" the man´s grin widened and then the picture changed. The screen was now nearly black and Sherlock could hear water rushing. Then he understood what he was looking at. The walls were made of stone and the ground was covered by water. A person was lying on the ground, his mouth and throat only centimetres above the water.

"John! John wake up! John!" Sherlock screamed and John seemed to slowly awake from unconsciousness. He growled in pain and held a hand to the back of his head. When he realised what had happened he lifted up his body into a sitting position which was not a good idea for his cardiac cycle.

"Mhhhhh, what the hell..." he started but was interrupted by a voice in his ear.

"John...John are you alright?" he heard Sherlock´s voice in his head.

"Yeah, yeah...m´fine...where are you?" John answered wandering where he was himself.

"In another room. What can you tell me about your location?" Sherlock sounded stricken.

"Well..." John looked around "...the walls are stony and it is dark...I am standing in half a foot of water..." John lifted one leg "...chains...damn it..." he mumbled in a lower voice

"I am chained to the ground". Then he looked up and frowned.

"What is it? What are you seeing?" Sherlock asked noticing the fear in John´s look.

"Stars, Sherlock...I am seeing the stars...a am on the bottom of a bloody well" John was quiet then. Suddenly both of them heard another voice join the conversation.

"Nice little place down there am I right? At first I wanted to see the boy down there but it was such a beautiful day when I dealt with him. I thought that I should take him on a trip to the lake instead." The man laughed.

"It was fun watching him struggle to breathe while he sank down on the ground...but the current situation is rather boring...let´s change that..." suddenly water began falling down on John and he pressed himself against the wall of the well. There must haven been some kind of pipe in the wall above him that was now filling it with water.

"Oh, come on..." he cursed and pushed at the chains. Soon the water arrived at his knees and climbed higher with a frightening speed. Sherlock was unable to help and could just watch how the water and John´s fear raise at the same time from second to second.

Now Mr. Holmes, do you understand what your biggest fear is? Do you feel year heart pounding against your chest and the blood rushing through your system? Well, then you know...your biggest fear: being unable to save a friend...no, being unable to save John Watson I should say. It is your fault that he is in there and it is your fault that he will die because you are not able to get to him. There is nothing left for you to do and you can only watch while he drowns screaming your name with his last breath." While the man had spoken, Sherlock had started to hit the door with all power he had but it did not give in. By the time the speech of this psychopath had ended he had sunken down on the floor and watched John starting to shiver in the ice cold water. It was now reaching to his shoulders and soon he would have to swim.

"Naa...won´t happen." suddenly John´s voice broke the silence. He sounded confident and Sherlock was at a loss of words.

"As you should know by now..." John started to swim and fought against the cold in his body "...friendship does work in two directions...you...are trapped in a room...somewhere in the house...now we make a deal...I save you...and then you come...saving me" John was dipping under water from time to time but Sherlock understood his words as clear as if he stood right in front of him. But he didn´t understand what John mend. Then he recognized it. The red and blue light bolts mirroring in the water and the wet walls of the well. They got brighter and brighter and now Sherlock was able to hear the sirens. Somehow John must have contacted Lestrade before they got captured.

"...Deal?..." John asked and looked into the camera, the chains would soon hold him down by swimming up and then he would not be able to breath or scream for help.

Sherlock stood up.

"Deal!"

Only a fraction of a second later the door was violently opened and Sherlock ran – the tsecond time this day – past a speechless Lestrade. His brain worked on high speed now, imagining the blueprint of the house only by what he had seen before, taking a peace of pipe from the floor on his way after finding the shortest exit and scanning the area for the well. Through all of this he was able to hear John´s unsteady breathing over his ear plug and Lestrade´s command "hands behind your head" which was determined for the psychiatrist. But Sherlock couldn´t care less about the serial killer right now.

"John, I´m coming...I am outside the building and I am going to find you...I _am_ finding you" he said to calm John down but mostly to calm himself.

"I know" John said with a last breath and the line went silent. He was under water now. At the same time Sherlock found the well and, without hesitation, jumped inside. When he broke the surface, he found John immediately whose body was completely under water. Sherlock took a big breath and dived down to John´s feet. He slid the pipe which he was still holding in his right hand under the last ring of the chains and used it as leaver to bow the ring open. When John´s right foot was free, Sherlock went on with the left one. He used all the power and oxygen that was left in his body to open this ring too. When he broke the surface again his lungs burned like hell and his body was extremely exhausted but the only thing he really noticed was that John was still lying limp in the water.

"No..John!" Sherlock lifted John as far out of the water as he could. John caught as soon as his head was over water and had to put some effort in getting the water out and filling his cold and sore lungs with air.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked despite the fact that John was obviously not alright.

"Mhhhh...cold" John muttered and Sherlock felt his whole body shiver in the water.

"Lestrade! ...Lestrade!" Sherlock screamed. John needed to get out of the water as soon as possible.

"Sherlock! Where are you?" they heard Lestrade´s voice from somewhere above them.

"Down here! In the well. Get a rope or a ledder! Fast!" Sherlock answered.

Five minutes later both the Consulting Detective and the Doctor were packed in blankets – and this time were the blankets indeed very useful.

"John...I want to...apologise...for what happened" Sherlock said not knowing what else to say.

"You don´t have to apologise Sherlock. It wasn´t your fault." John stated. His teeth were still clapping and he couln´t wait to get home to take a hot shower.

"Yes it was, I didn´t inform Lestrade about the suspect and braking into the house of a psychopath was not my best idea I must admit." Sherlock looked serious and John laughed.

"Obviously..." he laughed even more and Sherlock looked startled. Then he grinned.

"When did you contact Lestrade? When we arrived here with the cap?" he asked after some time of silence.

"Ehm...yes, I texted him while you picked the lock. I knew that you were right with your deductions – you are always right – and I can understand that you don´t want to look dumb in front of the Detectives despite the fact that you would never admit that but therefore I am here." John said leaning against the wall, tired after all that happened.

"You are anything but dumb, John. And you are here because you are my partner and my friend" Sherlock said leaning against the wall next to John.

"I know and good to hear that you know it too, but nobody else must know" John smiled when Sherlock frowned. _One of the seldom moments in which Sherlock has no clue what is going on_ he thought to himself.

"It has worked before and it will work again. You are the great Mr. Sherlock Homes, Consulting Detective and mastermind. I am your small and kind friend who writes about your cases and most of the time does not understand a word you are saying – which is quite true by the way. When I met you nobody thought you were capable of having friends. Now you have me. Mycroft sees friendship as weakness and I think sometimes you still think so too." Sherlock looked at John but didn´t say a word.

"We became close friends through the cases and therefore you logically developed a fear of being incapable of saving me. But friendship goes both ways you must know. You have my back and I have yours. That´s the way it works. Let the people think about me what they want if it can help to save your life." John saw into the sky and inhaled deeply, happy to be able to feel the night´s air in his lungs.

Sherlock looked at him and was wondering what he did to deserve a friend like John Watson...


End file.
